


When I'm Up I Can't Get Down

by Smooty



Series: 2doc Mature One-Shots [2]
Category: Gorillaz
Genre: 2D not being smart about drug safety, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Drugs, M/M, Murdoc being weirdly caring, no romance really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 10:17:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18259274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smooty/pseuds/Smooty
Summary: Thumping club music, amazing lights, sweaty bodies. The club was wild on a Saturday night, filled to the brim with pretty boys and girls sloshed out of their minds or higher than the stars.2D was a bit of both.





	When I'm Up I Can't Get Down

Thumping club music, amazing lights, sweaty bodies. The club was wild on a Saturday night, filled to the brim with pretty boys and girls sloshed out of their minds or higher than the stars.

2D was a bit of both. 

Within minutes of entering the building, he’d been offered a myriad of different pills and powders. He’d sampled quite a few and left some for the other partygoers, of course. Then he’d hit the bar hard, downing shots of something strong until he couldn’t see the bartender to order another through the haze. Eventually, he must have needed to take a piss, because he was washing his hands just as the majority of the Ecstacy kicked in, making him groan. 

He could feel the vibrations of the music as he pressed his hands against the disgusting counter. It left his bones tingling so hard he just had to press his forehead against the mirror to feel it in his brain. 

“Faceache?” Oh, how long had he been in here? Stu slid his face to the side against the mirror, leaving a trail of drool. Murdoc looked alarmed, and a little disgusted from where he was standing by the door. “What the fuck are you doin’?”

“Washin m’ands,” he slurred. Murdoc rolled his eyes and walked up to the nearest urinal. 2D tried not to listen to the sound of Murdoc pissing, but the man was just so  _ loud _ . The sloshing liquid sound made him nauseous.

“You havin’ a good time then, mate?” Murdoc asked over his shoulder. 2D shrugged, then remembered the bassist could see him.

“I guess, feel kinda t-tired.”

“Yeah,” Murdoc zipped his fly loudly, “that’ll happen when you sample half the goddamn drugs in the club at once.”

Stu frowned and walked towards him with a shambling gate. “You--! You ‘ad some t-too!”

“I did, but unlike you I know what to mix and when. I’m surprised you’re even still standing right now,” Murdoc answered, taking the singer’s face in his hands. 2D tried to flinch away but the bassist’s grip was strong. “D’you even know what you took?”

Stu thought. “Feels like eccy, and s-some oxy f'sure.”

“Saw you takin’ more than that.” Murdoc was turning his head from side to side, trying to see his pupils. “Dilated, and you’re burnin’ hot.”

“Hm?” What was he doing here again? Did he even know the name of this club? Rather than worry about it, he focused on the feeling of Murdoc’s calloused palms against his skin. Usually, the bassist ran hot, but right now his hands felt cool and refreshing. 

“I don’t think you’re in danger of overdosing, but we should get you somewhere cool, at least. Come on then, dullard.” Murdoc steered him out of the bathroom and through the crowds. People moved aside easily for the Satanist in a way that they never did for Stu. In moments they were outside the club in the chilly fall air. Stu wished he knew where his jacket was. 

“OK sit down over there and don’t do anythin’ stupid,” Murdoc said, pointing to a bench a few feet from the entrance. 2D did, the cold steel of the bench seeping through the seat of his pants in an uncomfortable way. Everything felt too much, too bright even though it was probably a few hours past midnight. 

“Thanks, Muds,” he mumbled, running his tongue along his gappy teeth. Murdoc shrugged and handed him a smoke, then a lighter after he’d lit his own. Stu stared and the two objects in his hands like he’d never seen them before. 

“Oh for fuck sakes.” Murdoc took them back and lit the fag, shoving it between 2D’s lips. From that point, muscle memory took over and the younger man sucked down the nicotine like it was air.

They sat smoking together in silence. 2D’s mind rolled from thought to though, never staying on one long enough for it to become complete. It felt like floating, like hiding, and he savoured the moment. 

“So, what’s got you all worked up then?” Murdoc asked, eyeing him sideways. 

“What’d’you mean?”

Murdoc sighed again, staring at the passing cars. “You don’t normally go off the rails like this unless somethin’s botherin’ you.”

Was that true? He’d never noticed. “I dunno, I don’t think anythin’s wrong. I’m jus…”

He trailed off. It wasn’t easy to stay in the moment or to form coherent thoughts. Had he been upset? Stu tried to think back over the last few days. They’d been filming videos and recording songs as usual. Nothing that would make him unhappy. 

“I’m tired…” 

“D’you wanna go home?” Murdoc offered. “We haven’t been here long, but this club is pretty shite.”

“I dunno, maybe.” He wasn’t really that kind of tired though. It was more of a feeling of slowness in his brain not connected to any of the drugs. A creeping grey that clouded out both good and bad. 

Murdoc rolled his eyes and sat back on the bench. “Fine. We can sit here until you decide.”

They smoked through the pack together, watching the drunk club-goers stumble around outside the building. Occasionally, Murdoc would make a disparaging comment about one of them, speaking a little too loudly for Stu’s comfort, but in general, they didn’t say much. His high hadn’t faded in the slightest when he starting to get agitated with sitting out in the open. 

“I wanna--I wanna go,” he mumbled, dropping his cig and standing up. Without waiting for Murdoc to follow he began walking off in a random direction, his long legs carrying him pretty far before Murdoc could catch up. The bassist was huffing and puffing with the effort. 

“Slow down dammit, we aren’t all built like a bloody giraffe!” He hadn't realized he was going so fast, it'd hardly felt like he as moving at all. Slowing down, Stu watched Murdoc jog a little to catch up, then fall into step beside him.”So where are we in such a soddin’ hurry to get to then?”

“Somewhere else…” the singer said quietly. Really he didn’t have a destination in mind, his brain just told him that he needed to go. That could have just been the drugs talking, but some niggling feeling in the back of his brain told him that he’d been feeling that way for a while. Like he was trapped and needed to get away, but he didn't know how. 

Murdoc heaved a long-suffering sigh. “You’re a real headcase, you know that?” 

2D snorted unattractively. “Coming’ from y-you.”

Murdoc laughed as well. Whatever he’d taken must have put him in a good mood, because he threw an arm around the singer. “Oh fuck off. Wait, let’s turn here there’s a bangin’ kebab place 'round that corner.”

The next thing he knew they were sitting under dim lights at a dirty table. Murdoc was eating a kebab and making a right mess of it. Stu had a can of coke in front of him, unopened as he rolled it back and forth across the table. 

“Ugh, that’s the stuff!” Murdoc said, mouth full and face covered in sauce. “You sure you don’t want one Stu?”

He didn’t both answering. Besides, his mouth was beginning to tingle something fierce and he wasn’t sure anything that came out of it would even resemble human speech. Instead, he set the can right and popped the tab and watched everything fizzle out onto the table. 

“Satan’s sake!” Murdoc growled, throwing his napkins over the mess. “You’re a bloody child.”

The soda stopped fizzing so he could finally take a sip. The bubbles in his mouth tickled, making him giggle and dribble liquid all down his chin. Murdoc was unpleased. 

“Can’t take you anywhere Dents,” his tone made 2D giggle even more. The need to run away was dissipating and leaving behind an airy sort of giddiness. It was much more pleasant. 

“S’not my f-fault. It’s the bubbles!” He’d been right, his voice came out all wobbly and wrong. 

Murdoc gave him a patronizing look. “Whatever you say, mate. You feelin’ better?”

“I guess, a lil’,” he answered, wiping up his mess. Murdoc shoved the last bit of his food into his mouth.

“Alrigh’ let's get out of here.” They left the shop and continued walking the way they had been. Their pace was leisurely, now that 2D had calmed down, and they practically strolled along. The side road was less busy, and it looked like it was becoming more and more residential. Stu had no idea where they were, or where they were going and he wondered if Murdoc did. 

“So what was all that about, then?” Murdoc asked as they crossed an intersection leading to a small park. Oh, maybe the Satanist did know where he was going. 

“I really dunno w-what you m-mean.” It’d been ages since he’d been to a park, probably not since he was a little kid. He was too tall for the slide, but the swings looked big enough, so he sat in one of them idly. 

Murdoc took the other swing, digging if boots into the sand. “You’re so high you probably don’t even know what day it is. It’s been years since I’ve seen you act like this...”

He wanted to start swinging but his legs didn’t seem to be cooperating with him anymore. As he stared down at them Murdoc kept talking. 

“I thought things were goin’ pretty well between us all. But then Noodle and Russel haven’t been around all that much, and you mostly keep to yourself so…”

“I dun’wanna start another argument,” Stu said distractedly. He had one of his legs back under control, but the other was proving more tricky. “If I'm  not around then we can’t start fightin’.”

“You’re not makin’ any sense, Dents,” Murdoc sighed. 2D was pretty sure that the bassist just wasn’t understanding.

“No. I mean, I-I don’t wanna give you an excuse t'be p-pissed at me.”

But maybe he just had. Something primal inside the singer told him he should move, get out of the way. Murdoc was going to take a swing at him and it would hurt, he should move. But nothing happened. Instead, he heard Murdoc sigh again, this time with more weight behind it.

“You all really don’t want anythin’ to do with me, do you?” he asked sadly. Was 2D supposed to comfort him? His high was changing rapidly, and it was getting harder and harder to stay grounded. Like a camera out of focus. 

“It’s… complicated…” he ground out, looking over at the bassist. Murdoc hardly looked drunk or high, in fact, he looked startlingly sober. Stu wanted to reach out and touch his friends face but thought that might be pushing it.

“Don’t I know it,” Murdoc chuckled darkly. As if he sensed Stuart’s eyes on him the Satanist looked up. “I don’t know how to fix this, Stu.”

“Fix what?” Was it getting lighter out? Or were his eyes playing tricks on him? And were those lights off in the distance?

“Us, D. Noodle and Russel too but mostly us.  I thought things were goin’ OK but…”

But Stu wasn’t paying attention anymore, too preoccupied with the flashing lights of cars from the main street. If he squinted just right and tilted his head, it almost looked like the lights were dancing. 

“I don’t know how to fix this,” Murdoc repeated, staring down at his hands. 2D thought maybe he should say something nice, something to make the bassist feel better, but he couldn’t for the life of him think of anything. Instead, he finally got his legs to work in tandem and began to rock back and forth on the swing idly. “I dunno why I’m even talkin’ to you about this now. You’re fuckin’ plastered.”

“Yeah, I am,” he admitted. That earned him a laugh from the bassist, which made him laugh as well. Soon they were two old men cackling to themselves in the middle of the night at a children's play park. 

“Whew, bloody hell,” Murdoc cursed as he stopped laughing, wiping a tear from his eye. “We’d better get outta here before someone calls the cops on us.”

2D followed him back down the road, out to the main drag. Murdoc seemed nearly sober now, and the singer had also sobered up a little. Not entirely though, as he tripped over his own feet multiple times. Murdoc had to steady him with an arm around the waist, weaving him through the crowds as best he could. Eventually, they made it back to the club and were lucky enough to see a row of cabs waiting to take intoxicated part-goers home. 

“Get in,” Murdoc instructed him and 2D did. The bassist gave the cabbie instructions back to Wobble Street and sat back, arm around the back of the seat. 2D leaned into his hold, feeling sleepy and very very cold now that he was coming down. His jacket was still somewhere back at the club, probably stolen. 

“Thanks, Muds,” he mumbled sleepily, letting the sway of the car rock him to sleep. Murdoc grunted in acknowledgement and he didn’t pull away so Stu figured it was alright. He was feeling less disconnected, less frantic, and more tired and lethargic. 

“Don’t mention it. Really. Don’t mention what we talked about to Noodle and Russ.”

Stu looked up, confused. “What did we talk about?”

Murdoc looked a little sad, and a little tired himself. “Nothing, Faceache, nothing.”


End file.
